


Summer Sunshine

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: checklist [4]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how he gives back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Sunshine

Henry doesn’t look away from his monitor until he feels Ryeowook’s fingers combing through his hair, oblivious to the footsteps he should’ve heard. “You should take a break,” Ryeowook says, placing a kiss on the crown of his head, warming him all the way through. He finally swivels his chair around.

“Okay,” he says with a tired smile, watching Ryeowook turn to leave with a beckoning wave. Struck by inspiration, or perhaps merely impulse, Ryeowook doesn’t even take a whole step before Henry’s pulling him onto his lap, arms secure around his middle. Ryeowook’s half-hearted protests are belied by his laughter, and he clutches Henry’s arms like a lifeline.

“Hey,” Ryeowook says, punctuated by the remnants of a giggle, “when’s the last time you ate?” That kind of reminder would usually work on Henry, but with Ryeowook squirming in his lap, his focus is narrowing to a different kind of hunger entirely.

“I’ve got something tasty right here,” he says. He proves his point by gnawing on Ryeowook’s shoulder in jest with exaggerated, cartoonish wolf noises. Clutching tighter, Ryeowook’s squirming grows stronger and more frantic, and his chortling is salve for the soul.

“You’re such a doofus. I wasn’t finished-“ The rest of his complaint is cut off, morphing into a soft moan, by Henry palming his cock through his sweatpants, an irresistible course of action when he’s so close at hand, and Henry’s earlier gnawing turns into presses of his lips just hard enough to hope his warmth can be felt. One arm’s plenty to hold Ryeowook close.

“Finished with what?” Henry asks, amused and the slightest bit breathless. Part of him feels pathetic. _One. Measly. Week._ Not even a dozen days without seeing each other had him touch-starved in a way that no one else could satisfy. Goddamnit, even his hair smells good. He’d forgotten.

“Don’t care. Later,” Ryeowook breathes, hitching his thighs wider apart. He releases Henry’s arm to put a hand over his, moving it with his own to adjust the pressure to his liking, changing Henry’s slow circling to a loose cupped up-and-down that he twitches his hips up into, then curling Henry’s fingers around his cock as he grows to full hardness. A whisper of air vaguely shaped like a curse falls from his lips. Nothing has ever sounded more beautiful. Nothing has ever felt more right than Ryeowook’s hand laying over his own, radiating warmth and and a sense of safety.

He doesn’t whine at losing that upon Ryeowook wriggling out of his grasp, but it’s a close thing. Best to save its potency for now. Ryeowook turns around and settles back on his lap. Vindicated and content, Henry smoothes his hand over Ryeowook’s hair, who pushes his head further into the touch with an approving hum and long, slow blinks.

They lock eyes for a long time, Henry’s free hand finding the back of Ryeowook’s thigh without breaking eye contact and stroking up and down, up… and down. Slow waves of back and forth while inside, he falls and falls and falls. Twisting and spiraling. Crash, the entirety of him is subsumed into this dance, the rest of reality consigned to oblivion. The corners of Ryeowook’s mouth quirk up, lopsided, one and then the other in turn, ending in an alluring, smirking tilt.

He’s clearly in a playful mood today. That’s why Henry takes the risk at all.

Standing up while still holding Ryeowook is the easy part; hoisting him up and throwing him over his shoulder is the hard part, but Henry manages it, relishing Ryeowook’s surprise - he knows he shouldn’t, and his snickering shows it. After that, he ignores a short-lived but vigorous burst of indignant protests as the surprise wears off while he makes his way to the couch with his prize. Despite the wriggling, he manages to lay Ryeowook down gently. His kiss quickly turns Ryeowook’s irritated whine into a moan. _Yes_ , Henry thinks, a plan starting to form in his mind, even as it turns muzzy from the sensation of his bottom lip held gently between Ryeowook’s teeth, pressing excruciatingly slowly and sparking every nerve ending until he’s panting and has nearly forgotten what he’s doing. Right, a plan. It’s a good one. He hopes.

First things first, though - he needs to be closer. Sliding under the hem of his shirt, his hand lays flat on Ryeowook’s abdomen, his forearm bunching up the fabric as he takes in its planes as though they’re new to his touch. His mouth falls open, his exhales coming stronger despite himself. Over his chest is when the “mmm” spills out because it’s so easy to forget by looks alone, but touch tells the truth. Ryeowook’s self-satisfied expression is definitely worth kissing away. Success! And with a bit of cooperation, sitting up into the empty space made for him by reflex, off goes his shirt. Henry’s doesn’t go quite as smoothly, a button hidden somewhere in the folds hitting his nose on the way up, but he doesn’t care when there’s so, so much skin to feel against his.

Once those layers no longer sit between them, they kiss with renewed fervor. Slippery and hasty and _just right_ , it’s distracting to the point that there’s no memory of whether there was anything to distract from in the first place. A touch of resistance greets his efforts to get Ryeowook onto his back again. Chuckling, Henry pushes back, holding Ryeowook’s hips and running his thumbs in short sweeps over them. A thrill runs through him when Ryeowook not only gives in but gently sucks on his tongue after settling down, letting out an “Mmmm” that makes him impossibly harder. That doesn’t happen a lot, giving in, but _fuck_ is it hot when it does. He takes full advantage for as long as he can bear.

Henry does his level best to unbutton his shorts with one hand squished between them, reluctant as he is to disconnect them at any point, but the result is only frustration. Sighing despite himself, he pulls away from heat and sensation, residual tingling making him throbbingly aware of the tension knotted low in his belly. He stands upright, managing to undo the button and zipper with the use of both hands. At the same time as the material drops from his hips to the floor, Ryeowook sits up again, slipping his fingers into the legs of Henry’s boxer-briefs, stroking the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and going no further. A pleasant shiver radiates out from the too-light touch. As much as he enjoys that mischevious grin and eyes sharpened with lust, one thought crowds out the rest.

Two can play at that game.

He leans down over Ryeowook again, taking his hands and moving them back to his ass as he does so. With a groan that sounds like victory, Ryeowook squeezes and kneads with abandon, his murmuring unintelligible. Part mutually beneficial arrangement - both the physical effect and inducing such a strong reaction - and part distraction. Henry basks in that for a moment, humming with pleasure, letting the urgency build inside him. The spring compresses further and further until it’s finally released. He scatters kisses over Ryeowook’s chest and collarbone in no particular pattern, making him lean back not all the way, but just a bit for now. Then, gravity does the rest of the work.

No, that’s not strictly true, because pulling off the rest of his clothing throws him off balance and down he goes. It’s almost funny, this tug of war, but laughter isn’t the reward here.

For that matter, Ryeowook looks halfway between disgruntled and trying not to laugh. Henry hovers over him, looks at him not because that’s what he wants to do, but because he’s struck motionless. Ryeowook is seduction given shape, curves and angles and limbs, the very concept taking human form for the purpose of exquisite torment, the agony of being anything short of melded into one too beautifully much to bear. His existence is a wonder of the world.

He seems to have settled on disgruntled, his pouting jarringly adorable. “Don’t make me wait,” Ryeowook says, almost pleading, hooking his leg around Henry’s thigh, pulling him out of his enrapturement and down onto him directly. It’s enough to make his breath no longer afraid to leave his lungs for fear of the mirage disappearing, instead heaving out as they collide. Ryeowook’s laughter is enough to steal it again. “You,” he says with fond exasperation, tugging ineffectually at the elastic of Henry’s waistband even as he seems to refuse to let go. No surprise, it hardly budges.

“Me?” Henry answers into his shoulder, less enchanted than lost. Nowhere near as smooth as he’d like.

“Hurry up,” Ryeowook says, rolling his hips up. Unbridled impatience. He can’t be contained, but who would want to? Such a thing is unimaginable. But there’re practicalities.

“No way. You complained _so much_ last time,” Henry says, grinning at his moue. “You’re going to wait a minute. A little patience won’t kill you.” Glowering but saying nothing further appears to be his idea of relenting. After completing the small hill of their clothing, Henry can practically feel Ryeowook’s eyes burning into his back as he briskly walks back to the nightstand. Might be his ass, actually. Once the patterns have been sussed out, Ryeowook _can_ be predictable. Sometimes. Occasionally.

He comes back to a glorious sight, though Ryeowook hasn’t particularly moved. Sprawled over the couch at an angle, legs hanging off the edge unevenly. Ready for him.

Without meaning to, Henry moves on autopilot, his legs and his hands working of their own accord while he distantly registers what’s actually happening. Very distantly indeed because Ryeowook is staring at him, heavy-lidded, commanding without a word. He’s insecure about his looks, but he might well be the most magnificent thing Henry has ever seen. He didn’t know human beings _could_ look like this - carved delicate and graceful out of living stone, sprinkled with supposed imperfection to disguise that very fact. _Every part of you is as it should be because you’re perfect for me._ He hasn’t solved the problem of how to make the words come out right, so he once again resorts to letting his eyes speak for him. He watches Ryeowook lick his lips without a trace of hurry. Deliberately, it seems. That knocks something loose.

“I want you so much,” he breathes, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. He’s surprised Ryeowook is allowing this, this simple closed-mouth lip-to-lip press, when he was so impatient only a minute ago, his hands coming up to curl around Henry’s biceps, softer than a breeze. A nearly-nothing flutter.

They part silently, precisely mirrored. Muscle memory moves them onwards, past the careful watch through a surge of heat at the initial entry, going by the still and anxious landmark, finally landing at that first nod, the true beginning of their journey.

“Love you,” Henry murmurs as he pulls back for his first tentative thrust. He moves in at last, biting his lip to keep him grounded and attentive. Ryeowook sucks in a sharp breath and his hand finds Henry’s on the cushion, squeezing in wordless reply. The plan nearly goes out the window at this point, but having gotten this far, it’d be silly to abandon it. Hard to remember with the slick heat leaving his mouth hanging open and extracting raw noises out of the lowest part of his throat, but he… he’s going to- “Oh _fuck_ ,” even with that squeezing, he’s going to go through with it. But damn, how does Ryeowook always manage that so rhythmically, attuned to driving him out of his mind? With the way he’s writhing around, each “Ah!” growing louder and higher, it doesn’t seem possible to be capable of anything so coordinated.

Just another second. Another. Just one more.

It still takes all his willpower, to the point that he ignores Ryeowook’s whine at stopping only partly on purpose. A moment to catch his breath, then, with a grin, Henry motions his head towards the wide, blank wall, raising his eyebrows as both question and offer. Ryeowook first looks surprised, eyes wide and mouth a tight circle, almost comical, then beams with delight. If he wants some assurance that they’ll see it to completion this time, he keeps it to himself very well.

Henry bends down over him, working one hand under him to wrap his arm around the top of his ribcage and back while Ryeowook’s arms make their way around his neck, drawing him into a hard press of lips against his own for long, uncountable seconds. He waits. Scraping his nails against the fabric of the couch, he hadn’t realized that his supporting hand was even moving as he watches Ryeowook stare at his mouth with half-closed eyes, looking like he was considering his own further interruption for a heartfelt repeat. Or felt with _some_ part, at any rate. Ryeowook visibly swallows and nods, his mouth dropping open again almost instantly.

“Up you go,” Henry mutters. He feels silly, but it helps anyway. As he straightens again, with Ryeowook in tow, he has to adjust quickly. His hands pass over the small of his back, though his hands always, _always_ long to rest there, to get a firm hold on his ass for better leverage. While the couch is still supporting some of Ryeowook’s weight, Henry gets a few more thrusts in and steals one more kiss in the process. Almost undoes all his work, too.

As difficult as it is to keep his resolve, he’ll get something even better than those cute little whines if he pulls it off this time. _When_ he does. That thought makes pulling out worthwhile, though not any easier. Those brief moments getting to the wall are almost too long to bear. Worrying him right now is how loosely Ryeowook’s arms encircle his neck - or maybe it’s his overcaution? - so he enlists the help of the supporting structure with fumbling haste. There’s a bit more of that, maneuvering to join them again. Henry bites his lip, then remembers that it’s much more enjoyable to join their mouths too, tongues soon slowly sliding against each other while he twitches impatiently. The third time Ryeowook’s legs squeeze his hips, accompanied by another whine, it finally gets through to Henry that he can start moving. He does.

Frustatingly slowly, but he _does_.

All those squats and core exercises and even those weird ones on that one machine, worth it, all worth it. Last time, he’d had to stop partway through so his legs wouldn’t give out, no amount of responsive noises and demands to go harder able to change the physical reality of the matter. Stung his pride a bit at the time to hear an eager ”The wall- I want- _fuck me!_ ” and not be able to follow through to the end - even if it was more of a gentle, steady press than the shoving that might’ve been expected. Now, this time, he’s ready. Ryeowook had been so ecstatic when they started, and somewhat wistful when they had to go back to the bed.

And it’s not just Henry’s pride that’s having a good time here. He watches closely, unable to catch his breath, drinking in Ryeowook’s mewls and arched back, only his shoulders braced against the wall for a long moment. Almost a good thing, then, that it’s a bit difficult to move with as much strength as usual. Can’t get too far ahead.

Still, the experience is incomplete. One more image belongs in the collage of memory, so Henry dials down to smooth, slow thrusts as he rests his mouth on Ryeowook’s neck - but not for long. Resting is the furthest thing from his thoughts. Hot breath reflects back to him between his wet open-mouthed kisses up the smooth column, his tongue darting out to deliberately trail the tip over that delectable expanse, tasting salt offset by the sweetness of Ryeowook’s moans and squirming. He’s far from stingy with the enthusiasm of his responses.

It’s a heady rush, Ryeowook not making his usual attempts to take control, pliant with both his body and his words, or lack thereof. In the imperfect light, half cut off, Henry can’t help but think, _I’m never letting you go._

Also, with his arms trembling for a second, he thinks, _He’d kill me if I dropped him._ But that, too, is a given.

Every sensation feels magnified by urgency and novelty. He’s bombarded rich, sensual textures and tastes, aural ambrosia, everythingeverything allatonce. His only shreds of coherence hanging on are working to overcome the physical limitations of the position to meet the need for _more_ , the much greater portion of him given over to the sensations of hard muscle, smooth skin, slick friction. He pulls his head back to look, just for a moment, all he can manage. Diving back in for another kiss is imperative, too tempting not to. He wants, he _wants_ so badly.

Freeing one of his hands is… not really an option, despite the wall’s assistance. But the pressure is building, so he has to do _something_. He’s panting as he pulls away. “Come on, come on, let me see you come, I wanna watch you come,” he says, his speech sloppy from exertion. The words slur together with eager haste, barely out of his mouth before he’s nudging Ryeowook further back against the wall to try to help bolster him. Ryeowook cautiously removes one arm from around Henry’s neck, his eyes turning glassy even before he’s taken himself in hand. The motion itself is somewhat restricted by necessity, but his brow furrows further, and his moan pitching sharply upward sears down Henry’s spine. Of course, so does the way he’s squeezing tighter, and tighter, and tighter still.

If only it could go on forever. In the no time it seems to take, Ryeowook both looks and feels like every muscle in his body is wound as tightly as possible, and the mere two syllables he moans with their stretched-out vowels are so loud that it’s a wonder the building doesn’t collapse as he spills between them. Stunning.

Henry could do nothing but hold him in place, gripping handfuls of his ass while thrusting, more roughly than he’d ever allowed himself to get, still not as forceful as every fiber of his being cried out for. He muffles a ragged chorus of “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” into Ryeowook’s neck from the pleasure overpowering him. The final incantation turns especially emphatic as he comes, that vice grip unraveling him, and he clutches Ryeowook with the last of his strength when he goes still.

“Fuck,” he breathes one last time between gasps, now noticing the ache in his hands as he eases out by reflex. His legs feel like jelly, so he doesn’t lay them down so much as he makes sure that Ryeowook lands on him instead of the floor by clinging to him as they half fall. “Was that what you wanted?” He ekes out the words with no small amount of difficulty.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Ryeowook says, panting as if he’d just run the length of the entire city.

“Only for you,” Henry says with a grin, in no better condition himself. Ryeowook lightly smacks his arm. Henry pouts in return.

“It’d better be only for me.” Ryeowook kisses the spot he just hit, turning Henry’s pout into a bright, beaming smile. It only grows bigger when Ryeowook returns the expression. “Come on, let’s lie in bed. No, don’t give me that look, it’s not _that_ far and I don’t want to get sore from the hardwood.” Henry groans. As always, he eventually complies. Just. After a minute. It’s not like Ryeowook pokes him again, either, dead weight on top of him before finally following his own decree.

After letting himself fall onto the bed, Henry can admit that going to the soft, comfy horizontal surface was a good idea, but he won’t do so unless prodded. In barely a second, Ryeowook’s joined him, starting too far and scooting closer when Henry looks at him plaintively. Yep, he’s still got that killer pout. It gets him their sweaty, sticky selves stuck close together again, one of Ryeowook’s knees wedged between Henry’s. A yawn brings a sweet peck to his chin and some ability to process thoughts again.

“Weren’t you doing something?” Henry asks. Ryeowook makes a low irritated whine.

“Mngh. A few more minutes,” he grumbles, a minute gust of air tickling Henry’s arm. In its wake, a wisp of a chuckle makes ripples in the pleasant silence washing over them. Giddy adoration builds up, up, up inside Henry’s chest. His heart can’t contain it.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He murmurs, the words smooth like a well-worn stone, as comforting to say as if he could hold the sun-drenched warmth of them in his palm. His mouth lies so close to Ryeowook’s forehead that he can feel puffs of his breath as he speaks. Darting away from under his mouth, Ryeowook inhales sharply against the crook of his neck, then snuggles further into his hold. With a content sigh, Ryeowook slumps bonelessly in their readjusted embrace, one of Henry’s arms over his shoulders, the other at an angle across his back, his hand resting in the slight dip in his side.

“Tell me just one more time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe this one took me since early November! /o\
> 
> What the series began as in early October:
> 
> Henry is bright sunshine, fluttering butterflies, a hand reaching back towards him with a beaming smile to take him on an adventure. Laughter. Freedom.
> 
> Ryeowook is the glow of the moon, the embrace of the ocean, a gentle kiss lingering on his forehead. Warmth. Home.
> 
> Bonus scrap from mid-August:
> 
> “who's the big spoon / little spoon this is for science”  
> It’s mostly Ryeowook, he likes the feeling of being protected, finds comfort in the warmth and the pressure and the grounding feeling of his feet resting against Henry’s shins, adjusting Henry’s arms as he pleases and ignoring the chuckles rumbling into the back of his head until he finds that perfect position that he could stay in for a week if he was allowed. In the mornings, though, when he’s already been up and bustling around for an hour before he finally hears Henry stirring, he sneaks back in and shifts himself high up on the pile of pillows, his arm curling around Henry’s waist, smushing his face into the crook of his neck and smelling adventure, laughter, home away from home. When Henry turns over, he blinks sleepily, everything slow and lethargic, smiling that soft smile he only has when he’s just awake enough to know exactly two things: Ryeowook is here and breakfast is soon.


End file.
